


Admirers

by mapleandmahogany



Series: A Series of Declarations [1]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Established Friendship, M/M, baze is a good wing man, chirrut wants to try everything, everyone was young once, feelings are hard, references to baze/omc, references to chirrut/ofc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:57:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9476663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapleandmahogany/pseuds/mapleandmahogany
Summary: In their early years of service, novice guardians take sabbatical away from the city temple, to meet the people of Jedha and to try new things, before returning with renewed devotion.Chirrut wanted to try everything..A couple companion scenes set years before Gestures and Declarations.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _As ever, thanks to my[Quizzical](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Quizzical/pseuds/Quizzical</em></p>%0A<p><em>) for the encouragement, and to [coffeejunkii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeejunkii/) for the top notch beta and enthusiasm!_

.

“You have an admirer.” Baze kept his eyes on fixed on the blaster he was cleaning.

Chirrut perked up at that, head turning.

“Oh? How can you be sure _I’m_ the object, when I’m sitting here next to _you_?”

Chirrut often fake-flirted with him like that so Baze nudged him with his elbow. “Shut up.” 

Baze glanced at the woman sitting with her people across the clearing, on the other side of the fire. “She watched you all day. Watched you training the young ones, and sparring with the village warriors, but she never took part.”

Chirrut tilted his head, considering. “Does she look like one who wants to learn to fight, but is too shy to ask?”

Baze cast a glance casually around the gathering, brother guardians and locals, drinking and sharing stories. Some were playing music and dancing. The woman in question stood, her eyes fixed on Chirrut.

“No,” Baze said. “She looks like she can hold her own, and just wants to tussle with you. Naked.”

Chirrut laughed and shook his head.

“Here she comes…” Baze warned quietly. Chirrut looked up, hearing her approaching footfalls in the sand.

“Hello, teacher-Guardian. I am Varan An.” She bowed slightly, appropriately, but kept her eyes on him.

“Hello,” Chirrut nodded in return. “I am Chirrut Imwe.” They shook hands, and Varan continued to hold Chirrut’s, putting her other hand over it and stepping closer. 

“Ah, this is Baze Malbus,” Chirrut said quickly, removing his hand from hers to gesture.

Baze did not (did not!) crack a grin at Chirrut’s effort at composure.

“A warm night to you, sir,” Varan said to Baze, in formal Caderan custom, and nodded her head respectfully.

“Warm night…” Baze replied with a nod, saluting vaguely with the steel brush he was using to scrub his blaster.

Varan fixed her attention back on Chirrut, a hungry expression on her face. “I watched you today. I like the look of you, Chirrut Imwe.”

“Ah. Th-thank you, Varan. I am unfortunately unable to return the compliment. But I am sure you are very nice to look at.”

“Unable? What is wrong with you?”

“Ha!” Baze let out a snort of laughter that he probably would have kept quiet if he hadn’t drank so much. 

He was feeling very odd about this display of flirting. The impulse to give Chirrut and Varan privacy was at war with the instinct to stay with Chirrut and help him negotiate the social customs. 

“What’s _not_ wrong with him?” Baze asked . “He’s reckless, impulsive, makes terrible soup and even worse jokes.”

“What’s wrong with my soup?”

“Too salty.”

“Yours is too salty! Mine is sweet.”

Varan watched the two of them, back and forth and then asked, “Are you sworn to one another?”

Her eyes cut to Baze and he returned her look without any expression. He would let Chirrut answer, in case he might say yes, that he and Baze _were_ sworn to each other, as a way to kindly rebuff her attention.

“We’re...no.” Chirrut looked surprised and his smile dropped, though he quickly fabricated a new one. “We are not.” 

He turned his face up to Varan. Sometimes he had to make himself look at the person he was speaking with; a social norm of the sighted, but not instinctive for Chirrut. “I only meant that I am blind, so a complement to your appearance would be disingenuously given.” 

“You are blind?” She scrutinized Chirrut’s face. “I am sorry to hear it. I was going to ask if you would share my bed tonight.” 

“And why not now?” Baze interrupted, offended. “You would not take a man to bed because he is blind? It’s not a defect that affects his…” He stopped himself before saying something vulgar but still gestured generally downward with the steel brush in his hand.

“ _Baze_ ,” Chirrut laughed his name. 

Varan looked at first embarrassed and then glared back at Baze. “It’s not that! But how could he--” she stopped and instead faced Chirrut, speaking to him directly-- “how could _you_ determine if you want to come to bed with me, if you can’t judge if you like the look of me? It’s only fair.”

Chirrut frowned in thought, as though this were a discussion to be taken seriously.

“Perhaps appearance is not all that matters? The Force is Light around you, Varan. Your voice is strong, you speak your mind directly, and you argue with Baze even though you just met him. I admire these qualities.”

“Mgh.” Baze could see that Chirrut intrigued by the prospect. He may have been taken aback by Varan’s forward behavior, but Baze had never seen him back down from a challenge, or an adventure, and this situation didn’t seem to be any different.

“Do you trust the words of your Baze Malbus, then?” she asked.

Chirrut’s brow furrowed then softened and he relaxed. “I do.”

“Then,” she said to Baze, challenge in her eyes. “Go on, tell him about the look of me. Be precise.”

It was impressive how a woman could just stand there, doing nothing, and yet still exude sensual presence. He didn’t find himself aroused by her, but he respected her confidence, and her taste in men.

Baze took a drink as he considered her attributes. 

Chirrut tilted his head, waiting. 

“She has a good face. She looks healthy, and strong.” 

Varan raised her eyebrow. “Are you describing a dewback or a _woman_?” 

She arched, or swayed, somehow, doing something baffling with her feminine posture that drew Baze’s attention to her curves and the sex of her body. “Tell him about _me_ , like what a man who wants a woman, looks at.” 

“To be fair,” Chirrut interrupted. “Baze doesn’t--”

“Mgh!” Baze grumped at him. He sat up, shifting his backside on the metal toolbox they were sitting on. Chirrut knew full well that Baze didn’t desire women, but he understood perfectly what was considered appealing. Chirrut was curious about all things in the galaxy, including women.

He leaned his elbow on his knee, closer to Chirrut, eyes on Varan. “She is easy on the eyes. No more than three or four years older than us, and not yet withered by the winds. Her body looks strong, but the build of her muscle is more like yours rather than mine.” Varan nodded him to continue as he glanced downward. “Her breasts would be a nice handful, but no more. Little round ass like yours too, but thicker, like she’s a strong rider...of anything she cared to ride.”

Varan smirked at Baze, letting him know he wasn’t wrong. 

“Chirrut Imwe?” she said, holding out her hand.

“Varan An?” he replied, accepting her hand. Varan tugged, very gently, and Chirrut nodded and stood, letting himself be led.

 

“Baze?” Chirrut said, seeking reassurance. 

“Go on, if you’re inclined,” Baze said.

“The Force moves in mysterious ways?” Chirrut said over his shoulder to Baze.

“Indeed, it does.”

Baze watched him go, chuckling and shaking his head. 

He looked around and noticed that many of his brother-guardians had paired off with locals, wandered off into tents and nearby caves. Others were just settling into bedrolls by the fire.

There was no prospect for him tonight, and he didn’t particularly regret that. He’d sit watch over camp while the others had some fun.

He glanced at what he could see of the tent Chirrut and Varan gone into. He wondered if there were light inside. Not that Chirrut would need it, but what would Varan’s view of him be? What else Chirrut would observe? Was there comfortable bedding? Were they undressed yet, and warm enough?

This was when Baze was glad that his internal thoughts were hidden. He looked around, just in case he looked guilty about something. It’s just that he wished he could have gone with them. Not so he could have sex, or to be involved at all, but just to be with Chirrut while he experienced it. He imagined himself lying next to them, encouraging, watching Chirrut’s face. Okay, maybe laughing at him a little bit, what are friends for? But also, sort of just feeling proud of him and wanting to share one of life’s new experiences.

Chirrut was probably talking with her; was he making jokes, or saying sweet, tender things? Did he get vulgar when he was aroused? What kind of sounds would he make?

Baze sat upright, glared at the drink in his mug, and tossed it out. Surely _it_ was to blame for his absurd, wandering imagination. He secured his now thoroughly cleaned blaster and sat on the sand, leaning back on the toolbox. He covered himself with a canvas and settled in to meditate on worthier things.

.

Baze’s neck ached, the left side of his ass had gone numb, and when Baze shook himself alert, the sky told him that a couple hours had passed. 

And Chirrut was leaving Varan’s tent. She was mostly hidden in the dark opening but Baze could see her breast and that Chirrut’s hand touched at her ribs as she kissed him. It was brief, like a gracious send-off, but still a touch awkward.

When Chirrut turned away from her, she looked ahead of his path and saw Baze watching them. It probably looked as though he’d been lying there staring after them them the entire time, but if that bothered her, she didn’t show it. She simply nodded politely at him, he returned the same, and she went inside. 

It felt a little bit like a silent exchange of custodianship, as if Chirrut wasn’t a fully adult, well-respected member of a devout order, exceedingly capable of protecting himself and making his own decisions.

Except it was still a little bit like that.

“I am here, Chirrut,” he said quietly, brittle-voiced, until he cleared his throat.

Chirrut tipped his head up with a nod and a sleepy smile. He held his staff with one hand, but his outer robes draped over his arm, his undershirt still mostly undone.

“Have you slept?” Chirrut asked.

“A little. You?” 

Chirrut made the tiniest smirk with only one corner of his mouth, but Baze saw it. “A little.”

“Mm-mgh.”

Chirrut stuck his staff in the sand and leaned it toward Baze, so that he would hold it for a moment.

Chirrut fastened his shirt closed, and then shrugged into his robes. Redressing, Baze considered, after presumably having sex with a woman for the first time.

Baze looked at Chirrut all the time, but he was always careful never to stare just because he could get away with it, in a way that you wouldn’t with a sighted person who would know what you were doing. 

But he watched him, silently, and it didn’t feel wrong to do so. 

“Do I look different?” Chirrut asked, retaking his staff. “Does it show?”

Baze very-very nearly snorted a laugh, because people made jokes about that sort of thing; _can you tell if I’m a virgin? Can you tell if not?_ But Chirrut was literally asking him a sight-related question, like maybe there was a biological visual cue that no one had ever told him about, and Baze would never laugh at that.

“No. Same beguiling mug you’ve always had; all _wise_ and _innocent_. And we both know that’s not true.”

Baze flipped up the edge of the canvas he was covered with and patted the earth beside him. 

Chirrut whacked the side of Baze’s thigh with his staff, making him _oomph_ and then chuckle, while Chirrut lay on the ground next to him and they covered up.

“You could have stayed in there, you know? On a soft bed, with a warm, pretty girl next to you.”

Chirrut made a tiny smile, but looked away.

“Hey,” Baze said, reaching out, putting a hand on Chirrut’s chest. “I’m only teasing, but I’ll stop.”

“No, I might think something was wrong if you stopped teasing me.”

Baze gave him another little shove on the chest and sat back. “So everything--it was--as it should?”

“I believe so? But I thought you described a _human_ woman.”

“What?”

“Do all women have tentacles?”

“ _What_?” 

Chirrut bit his lip and then broke into laughter. 

Because he was a horrible, unfunny person.

“You’re teasing _me,_ now!” 

“Oh, _Baze_.” Chirrut reached out, lightning quick and socked him in the arm. “Don’t be mad.”

“Mph.”

“It was all very nice. I know you were looking out for me, with her, and I thank you.”

“Well, somebody has to.”

“I had hoped, for all the fuss people make about sex, that I’d feel more connected to the Force, somehow.”

“And, no?”

Chirrut shook his head and sighed. “Not unless we really did do it wrong.”

“You might be hopeless, but I’m inclined to think, Varan at least knew what she was doing.”

Chirrut broke into a grin. “She did.”

“Will you like to see her again?”

“Oh. No. I mean, she was very nice, but...if I ever do that again, I’m inclined towards being a with a man, I think. But I’ve decided it’s not the sort of thing I want to be casual about.”

“No surprise discovering that you’re sentimental.”

“I guess I am. I wonder what she saw in me?”

“I told you. She watched you sparring all day. That would be enough.”

“Watching me spar?”

“Mm-mgh.” Baze shrugged.

“Wait. Watching _me_ spar? Or watching me _spar_? Is fighting very erotic to watch?”

“Mm... People often have the same look about them when they’re fighting as they do when they’re aroused. Skin flushed, you know, pinker? Warm. They get sweaty, out of breath. It could be how a particular fighter moves. Either slow but with power, or fast and precise...”

Baze didn’t have the words to explain what a singular, captivating joy it was to watch Chirrut in action. He was exceptionally skilled, and that was before even considering how his blindness would ordinarily be considered a hindrance in combat.

“ _Listening_ to sparing is the same. It _sounds_ like sex.”

“Does it?” He had to open an eye and look at Chirrut, then.

Chirrut nodded. “Bodies slap against one another. Grappling. Grunts that sound surprised, and painful, but maybe sometimes turn into laughter? Like it’s fun? And then, there’s when one is talking to their sparring partner, giving praise in a low, breathless voice, just between them, giving encouragement...”

Chirrut swallowed as though his mouth had gone dry. Baze handed him a canteen.

Baze very much wanted to know who Chirrut had listened to so thoroughly, and decided to pay closer attention.

Baze also thought about what his own favorite sparring partner sounded like, and Baze glanced at him, and grinned to himself. 

Chirrut talked the whole damn time.

.

_After their sabbatical, some years later._

.

“Have a good time?” Chirrut asked.

Baze _did not_ startle at the sound of his voice. Because he _was not_ sneaking into the room he shared with Chirrut, because he had no curfew, and he had done nothing to be ashamed of and he so wasn’t feeling guilty _at all_. 

This, he repeated to himself. 

Again.

Chirrut was sitting with his legs crossed on a rug before his small altar of totems. The question he asked Baze could have easily been a jest--he liked to make Baze feel embarrassed--but instead his voice was conspicuously devoid of taunting accusation, and his choice of words was no accident.

Baze felt a defiant smugness well up where all the guilt had been.

“As a matter of fact--” Baze had to clear his throat, unaware of how gummy it had become, and he decided not to say anything further. “Mgh.”

“Well, that’s just _fine_ , then,” Chirrut said with a huge smile and shrug. All pleasantness, and not at all sarcastic; And nothing at all like Chirrut. 

Baze exhaled heavily, his boots clomping with force as he moved toward the pallet bed, and began unbuckling and disarming, removing his layers with tense deliberation. “You are usually better at conversation, Chirrut. Or would you like to just say to me what you are thinking? Hm?”

Chirrut let out a sharp laugh, but there was no joy in it. “I have nothing to say. I’m sure your companion had sufficient oral skills.”

Baze rolled his eyes and groaned. “Fah! Listen to you. I hear your innuendo. And so what, he talked a lot? He was a visitor to Jedha. He had questions about the temples, I had answers about the temples.”

“Baze,” Chirrut sighed, his real voice coming through. “My friend. You do not have to deny him to me. I know there was more than just talk between you.”

“Then why are you angry? Is it so wrong of me? You think everyone should deny themselves forever, like you do?”

“Listen to _you_ , now,” Chirrut said, waving a hand in his direction as he stood and moved to his own bed. “As though lust is the same as the need for oxygen, for water. As though you must have it or perish.”

“‘Course not. I am no animal!” Baze fought his tunic off, struggling for a moment with both arms stuck over his head and was glad for a moment --just a moment!-- that Chirrut couldn’t see how ridiculous he must look. “But I still want... _that,_ sometimes, okay? I became a Guardian, not a monk. Maybe the Force provides all you want, but I am not ashamed of having desire.”

Baze kicked off his boots in a huff, and they landed with thunks across the room. 

They were both silent.

Baze knew he couldn’t settle to sleep if his boots were tossed about, and it’d be rude to leave a tripping hazard for Chirrut, so he collected them again, setting them upright next to his bed for quick access if he needed them. Then he lay on his side of the bed, heart pounding, and stared at the stone ceiling. He was certain he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he couldn’t bear being a disappointment.

“It is not my intent to shame you,” Chirrut said, voice softer, more himself, as he sat on the edge of the bed, head hung low. “I believe that you, Baze Malbus, are a good man. Always.”

He said it as sincerely as he declared his faith in the Force and Baze suddenly didn’t feel worthy of his dedication.

Baze pressed his lips together, chewing on several words before deciding on any. “I try to be. I don’t just go with any man casually, you know that. Never pay at the brothel, or coax the vulnerable.”

“Never,” Chirrut agreed.

“But he was a nice person, Chirrut. Respectable. A scholar. He makes records of histories and geographies, so they’ll never be forgotten. I shared Jedha with him, and the temples. And now he’s gone off world and I’ll never see him again.” 

He almost apologized to Chirrut, but he knew there was no reason for it.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“You sound like you want one.”

“No. I am sorry this nice man has gone. If you liked him so much to be with him. Like that.”

Baze scrubbed at his face, rubbing his palms against his eyes so hard that when he opened them he saw spots for a moment. 

“I didn’t mean...there’s no need for you to be sorry. I didn’t love him. I’m not sorry he’s gone. I only meant that it was friendly, and mutual, and now it’s over and that’s all. I’m not sorry, you shouldn’t be either.”

They slipped into silence for several minutes. Baze’s eyes grew heavy with post-coital fatigue and now with heavy heart from the harsh exchange with Chirrut. He never wanted to fight with his friend.

“You are wrong about one thing,” Chirrut said.

“Mm-mgh?” _Of course I am._

“I am not devoid of desire.” 

“Oh. That so?” Baze looked over at Chirrut, unable to keep the smirk off his face and out of his voice.

“You _know_ , Baze…” Chirrut’s voice dropped. “You were there.” He flushed and turned his face away.

Baze knew he was talking about that night in the Caderan village, but for a split second he imagined that he _had_ been there, been with him, the one and only time he was aware of Chirrut having sex. 

“You decided against the whole business, as I recall,” Baze said. “You chose the monk’s path with the Force.”

“Yes, I’m a monk, spiritually, but I never took a vow of celibacy. I only choose continence until I can be with the person I love.”

“Oh.” Baze thought about that. They didn’t speak of sex or lust once returning from sabbatical. It was private. “But…? Does that mean, you are _waiting_ for a person to love? Or that you already love a person, and are waiting to be with them?”

Chirrut’s serene expression twisted into frown of frustration and he shook his head with a huff, “Baze Malbus! How can you be such an accurate shot and still miss the point?” 

And with that he flopped back onto his bed and turned his back to Baze.

“Thank you? Wait, what point? You still haven’t answered the question.”

“Get your sleep, you moof-milker!” Chirrut’s words were scolding but his voice held no real anger. 

Baze knew that he was a frustration, but he thought Chirrut shouldn’t speak in riddles.

.


End file.
